Moments Between Time
by SquirrelWho
Summary: A series of one-shots detailing times between Sherlock and Rose running into each other. They are written from different character's perspectives. Part 2 in my Moments In Time series. Roselock.
1. A Woman

Part 2 in my Moments in Time series. There will more parts. I've just settled on posting this one next.

This takes place between Graffiti and Trains.

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John followed Sherlock into their flat. He hung his coat up and then walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. After the night he had, well, he and Sarah, being kidnapped by a smuggling gang, her almost getting killed, he really doubted she would call him again. He could ring her, but he knew that wasn't a good idea.

He walked back into the living room and flopped down in his chair with a sigh that drew his friend's gaze.

"Something wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Am I ever going to have a normal date?" John snapped, not that it was Sherlock's fault, but really, all he wanted to do was take Sarah out.

He should've known his friend was up to something offering free tickets.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John put too much stock in the normal and mundane.

"Dating's boring."

"Actually, it's really not. It's difficult enough without throwing in being kidnapped and almost killed."

"You know you enjoy it," Sherlock replied, sitting forward. "The thrill of the chase. Blood pumping through your system."

It was true. John couldn't deny it, but…

"Not when I'm on a date I don't," he snapped. Sherlock rolled his eyes and flopped back in his chair, gazing at the ceiling. "No one would, well, not one outside of you."

For a reason Sherlock could neither explain nor understand his mind drew up an image of a woman. Blonde hair, black jacket, blue shirt, black trousers, and trainers.

_"__Could be dangerous," he called._

_She smiled and it was what that smile spoke of that brought one to his own lips. The thrill of the chase. Blood pumping through her system. Someone who could handle herself, someone who wasn't afraid to step into danger._

_"__Wouldn't that be something," she replied._

John noticed the smile Sherlock sported. His brows drew together in annoyance. Of course his friend would find humor in running off yet another date. He rolled his eyes, picking up the paper even though he already read it this morning.

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	2. Blokes And Trains

Rose made it nearly out of the train yard before she noticed Mickey. The realization that he managed to stay hidden from her brought out a smile. _Mickey the idiot_ was no more. The Doctor would have to think up a new nickname.

"What're you doing out here?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, glancing back, but the bloke she'd been talking to was out of sight. "Who was that?"

She shrugged.

"Just some bloke."

He rolled his eyes because he knew better. He saw the way she was smiling, a bit like she smiled at Jack, not like she smiled at the Doctor of course, she never smiled at anyone like that.

"Don't give me that. I know you, remember?"

"I've only seen him a couple times, Micks. I don't even know his name," she snapped, irritated at his implication.

"Hey," Mickey said, holding his hands up in surrender, "I wasn't saying anything bad. I mean, it'd be nice if you-"

She rounded on them then because she knew what he was about to say. It's what everyone was saying, not in front of her mind, but behind her back. That she should just give up. That thinking she could break through the walls of the universe was a hopeless cause. And then there were the ones who thought she was mental, thought she was risking both universes and she ought to be, not only tossed out of Torchwood, but locked up for her own good. Those whispers were few and far between because they didn't want the Director of Torchwood to overhear, but she heard them just the same.

"What? Fell in love with someone else and just gave up?" she growled. "Do you really think I'd do that? Do you really think I'd just forget about him? I can't! I won't!"

"Hey, hey," he said, pulling her into a hug because he knew she wasn't upset with him.

She was upset over their failed attempt, what must have been their fiftieth failed attempt. That coupled with the handful of tossers back at Torchwood was starting to get to her. She pretended that it didn't. Tried to be strong, even started using that godforsaken phrase the Doctor used. _I'm fine_. Not that he faulted the Doctor. It wasn't his fault they were separated and he knew the Doctor was likely hurting as much as she was.

The mask she wore broke then and he held her. There was a time when he would've told her she was better off without the Doctor, but he wasn't that Mickey Smith anymore. He knew this was what she needed. To get out her frustrations and then they could return, she'd take another look at her design and go from there.

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Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**

**There's a video up for this series on youtube called Moments in Time if you're interested. **


	3. Trains and Blondes

I know this one's really short, but I will be posting another in a bit. :)

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Mrs. Hudson and John were both asleep, but Sherlock found himself sitting in his chair in the near dark of the living room, contemplating. It was _her_. The blonde, his mind was drawn to. Not all the time, of course, he was too schooled to allow an invasion of that sort, but in the quiet, in the in-between times after finishing a case and before starting another his mind was drawn to thoughts of her.

She unsettled him. No one understood his motivation, but she had, without an explanation, picking up on it as if it were second nature. She knew why he was watching John back in the train yard. She hadn't questioned him about digging through that skip or investigating the graffiti. He wasn't sure if he liked that.

Their meetings didn't appear to be staged, but if there's one thing he knew about coincidence, it was that the universe was rarely so lazy. Only, he couldn't work out what may be behind it.

Perhaps he should stage his own run-in with her. Throw her off her game, if it was indeed some game. In the least it would give him the upper hand. He preferred to be in control and so far she was always the one approaching him.

She was a mystery his mind was becoming too occupied with. Once he learned the answers, solved the mystery he could leave thoughts of her behind.

* * *

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

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	4. The Confusion Deepens

Between Confusion and Flats from Moments in Time.

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John sat in his chair, distracting himself with the paper he already read that morning. It was late and he had surgery in the morning, but he was waiting for Sherlock who began spending more time on his own of late, walking instead of taking cabs back to their flat.

He feared it had to do with Irene's death. When Mycroft suggested that Sherlock cared for The Woman John hadn't believed it, but the detective's reaction, wanting her phone, that's what made him start to reconsider. Perhaps Sherlock's claim to not care was a way of protecting himself. It made sense.

John heard his friend come up the stairs so he was prepared when the door opened, only the confused look Sherlock wore gave him pause. His friend's eyes fell on him and the confusion turned into a scowl before the detective shrugged out of the long coat and hung it up.

"Did you take the long way?" he asked after glancing at his watch, not that he had to. They left the murder scene over two hours ago after Sherlock solved it. John taking a cab and his friend choosing to walk…again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't you have surgery in the morning?" the detective asked, heading into the kitchen, but John was having none of that.

He sat the paper down and stood up to follow. Sherlock was being evasive, which didn't sit well with him. He had to make sure his friend's little outings didn't involve slipping into old habits Mycroft constantly worried over.

"Did you take a detour?" he continued, ignoring Sherlock's question because they both knew the answer.

Sherlock turned to John, realizing his friend's implications, though he couldn't understand why John would think he was out looking for chemicals.

"I'm clean. If that's what you're concerned over."

"Are you?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied, drawing his brows together in confusion. "I've no reason not to be." John continued to stare at him in disbelief, irritating him. "What?"

"Irene," the doctor finally admitted. The detective rolled his eyes again. John sighed. He didn't want to fight with Sherlock. "Look, Sherlock, it's perfectly normal to feel," the detective scoffed at the word.

"_Feel_," he snapped, as if there was something horrid about the word. "Sentiment isn't my-"

"Area," John interrupted. "Yeah, you've said that, but I remember how you were when you thought she died and now-"

"This has nothing to do with _her_."

John, of course, didn't know The Woman was still alive. Didn't know Sherlock saved her from the assassination. Didn't know she retreated to America where there would be little likelihood she would be discovered, well, as long as she didn't return to her old patterns.

"Really?" John asked, quirking his brow in disbelief. "Then what does it have to do with?"

Sherlock stared at his friend a moment. He didn't want to reveal _her_ existence to John or anyone for that matter, not until he sorted out who she was and what sort of device she was working on. It wasn't that he wanted to keep her a secret, keep her to himself, because, of course, that wasn't his motivation. That would be sentimental and he didn't do sentiment. No, it would be less complicated and, really, it was for John's own good not to know about her. Yes, that was why.

"Good night, John," he replied then turned on his heels and walked back to his room, closing the door behind.

John stood there a moment, staring at the closed door. Was there really another reason? It was possible, hell, with Sherlock pretty much anything was possible, but if there was another reason why would his friend keep it to himself?

* * *

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	5. Girlfriend

John was on his way out the door of 221B when his phone rang. He pulled it out with an audible sigh. He'd like to get through one date, from beginning to end, without an interruption from his flatmate. He glanced at the caller ID, his brows drawing together in confusion as Greg's name appeared.

"Greg?" he asked, putting phone to ear.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Lestrade replied.

John's confusion deepened. Her? Her who?

"I'm sorry?"

"I've already met her so there's no sense acting as if you don't know."

"Actually, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Rose."

John thought, but he couldn't recall a Rose. Celia was waiting at the restaurant. Had he dated a Rose? No, he was fairly sure he hadn't.

"I'm not sure who you mean."

"Blonde hair, around your height, beautiful smile."

Blonde hair? Beautiful smile? Why was Greg calling him about some blonde woman? Maybe it was for a case. Sherlock left after receiving a call from Lestrade.

"Um…no, still not following. Has she done something?"

"I'll say. I don't think I've ever seen Sherlock smile like that."

Wait. Smile? Sherlock? Not that he didn't smile, but at a woman? If he didn't know Irene was dead he might've assumed the woman was her, but blonde hair…that didn't fit. Plus, he was fairly sure Lestrade knew what Irene looked like.

"I'm sorry…what? Did you say he smiled…at a woman?"

"That was after she flung herself into his arms."

John's mind ground to a halt. Some woman flung herself into Sherlock's arms and the detective smiled at her? That sentence didn't make any sense. He tried to imagine it, but there were so many things wrong with that image he couldn't conjure it up.

"Wait…what?" he exclaimed.

Lestrade paused and John could almost hear the Inspector realizing he had no idea what the man was talking about.

"I assumed you knew," Greg replied, as if there was something to know.

"You assumed I knew what?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't what obvious?"

"Sherlock has a girlfriend." And there went the rest of John's mind, grinding to a halt. Girlfriend? Sherlock? What? "Sorry, I have to run."

The line went dead. John pulled the phone back and just stared at it. Girlfriend? Did Sherlock actually have a girlfriend? And if he did why would he keep her a secret? Oh, they were definitely having a talk when he got back.

* * *

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**

Also, in case you don't know, I have a tumblr under Squirrelwho.


	6. Teasing Flatmates

I'll have some more chapters up later. I'm hoping to get this part finished this weekend. :)

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Sherlock was still thinking about Rose and their exchange at the chippy when he stepped through the door of 221B. He knew her first name and where she lived so a quick jaunt on the internet accessing the rental files would turn up her full name, her flat number, and a bit more information.

He expected John to be out, still on that date with…Sarah? No, that was the first one…oh, well, it's not like they stayed around for very long. Noise from the kitchen drew his attention as he removed his coat and scarf. Mrs. Hudson must be cleaning, at least, that's what he thought until he turned around and was greeted by his friend's smiling face.

"Tea?" John asked, holding out a cuppa.

Sherlock eyed it warily. His friend was far too happy. He sighed, inwardly, taking the offered cup and hoping he wasn't about to sit through some retelling of John's date and how well it went.

He stepped around his friend, as he crossed the room to his desk, sitting down in front of his laptop to begin that search.

"So, were you going to tell me about her?" his friend asked.

"Her?" he inquired, opening the laptop.

He heard John step over next to him.

"Your girlfriend."

Sherlock's mental process screeched to a halt at the absurd statement. He glanced at John.

"I'm sorry…what?"

"Lestrade phoned," his friend revealed as if that should sort things.

Sherlock merely blinked, trying to put the puzzle pieces together that would tell him why Lestrade phoning would give John the impression…He rolled his eyes at the picture that formed.

"Rose is not my girlfriend," he replied, disdainfully, turning back to the laptop. "I don't have _girlfriends_."

"Rose," John said, leaning on the desk. "That's a lovely name."

Sherlock shot him a sideways glance.

"Women are a distraction. You would do well to remember that."

"Right." John paused, watching Sherlock's hands fly across the keyboard. "And you can't allow yourself to be distracted, now can you?"

"Precisely," the detective replied.

"So, what're you doing then?"

"Searching the rental records of the building where she lives."

"Why?"

"So I can discover her last name."

"You don't know her last name?"

"I…" he didn't want to admit that she distracted him from asking. She was very good at distracting him, which made her dangerous. "No."

"Why didn't you ask her?"

He rolled his eyes.

"This is easier."

It was lie. John could see that and it made him wonder.

"When did you meet her?"

"A study in pink," he replied as the rental records appeared on the screen.

John just stared at Sherlock. The detective had known her as long as they'd known each other, but he never met Rose. Sherlock hadn't even mentioned her, well, that wasn't exactly strange for the detective, but how could Sherlock have known her that long and not even know her last name. He was meticulous, hell, the man had known nearly John's entire back story at their first meeting. Then it hit him and he grinned.

"So…Rose…" John replied. Sherlock heard the teasing tone in his friend's voice, but he ignored it as he gazed over the names looking for Rose. "Are you going to invite her over? I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would like to meet her too. We could do dinner."

Sherlock paused. He glanced at John, took in the man's teasing smile. He wasn't going to get any work done around his friend so he stood, snapped his laptop shut and headed for his room.

John couldn't help grinning at his retreating friend, even after Sherlock's bedroom door slammed shut.

* * *

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	7. Lying

I'm back!

I plan on finishing all my unfinished stories before I start anything new and this is the one I'm starting with. Should only be a few more chapters till the end. So without further adue...

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Sherlock read through the list of renters names once, twice, three times. Rose was not among them. Not as a first name or as a last name. All this time he believed her. Believed every word she spoke, but now. Now he wasn't so sure. Had she lied to him? And if so why?

Was she trying to get into his head? Trying to distract him? If so, what was she distracting him from?

His heart, that vile thing that he held at bay for so many years didn't want to believe what his rational mind was telling him. Maybe she was flat sharing as he did with John. That was possible, wasn't it?

He had to find out, prove to his heart that she was lying. That she wasn't the opposite of Irene, but her equal. That she was never his friend. He didn't have friends because people had motives. No one could be as nice and sweet as she pretended. That's all it was, nothing more than pretense. She was manipulating him. Trying to get close to him for some unknown reason. He had to prove the truth of it and find out why. He slammed his laptop closed and headed to the front door.

"Going out again?" John asked as Sherlock shrugged into his coat.

"Stating the obvious again," Sherlock snapped in his agitated mood.

"Your in a mood. Did your girlfriend find out what a pleasant bloke you are and tell you to sod off?"

"No," he snapped.

"Is it that she hasn't phoned?" John grinned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I don't have a girlfriend, John."

"Greg thinks so."

"I don't care what you or Bret think," he replied as he opened the door and stepped out.

"His name's Greg."

Sherlock closed the door on John's reply and headed down the stairs. They could think whatever they wanted. Rose was nothing more than a mystery to him. He didn't do anything as mundane as a relationship. The opposite sex was nothing more than a distraction and if he hadn't believed that before he would've believed it now.

He would question everyone in that building if he had to and in the end when he found out she didn't live there he would find her, even if he had to bring Mycroft in, something he hoped he wouldn't have to do. He could hear his brother now, _Another one, Sherlock? Really?_

* * *

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Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	8. Got You

**Happy New Years to all my readers! I hope everyone had a brilliant New Years!**

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Sherlock mulled over the list of renter names from the flats where Rose supposedly lived. She was not listed among the renters and when he questioned the other renters no one could recall a blonde woman living alone, which meant she must be lying, but there was something off about it. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on and it drove him round the bend. It was a name. One name that...

"We could do monkey brains or fry up the brain you've got in the ice box," John's voice cut in.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, eyeing his flat mate.

"I've been asking you what we should do for dinner for the last thirty minutes."

Dinner?

"How can you think about something so mundane when there's a case to solve?"

"Case? What case?" John asked, trying to recall if they had a case...then it hit him. "Right. Your girlfriend."

John grinned, holding back a laugh, but Sherlock's scowl almost loosened it.

"She's not my girlfriend," he snapped.

"Yes, you've been very adamant about that...some might say too adamant."

A joke? How could John joke at a time like this? Didn't he understand? Couldn't he see they were being infiltrated?

"You don't find it strange that she's appeared while we were working four separate cases? That she has inserted herself into our lives in such a way that Bret believes her to be my _girlfriend_?" he asked, rolling his eyes on the last word.

"Inserted herself into _your _life," John corrected.

"Sorry?" Sherlock inquired with a scowl, having been thrown off his train of thought.

"Well, I haven't met her, have I?"

"Precisely," the detective agreed, believing his friend finally came round.

"Sorry," John asked. It was his turn to be confused.

Sherlock sighed. Once again he would have to explain things.

"Think about it, John."

John wasn't entirely sure where the detective was going.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean."

"It's me. It's been me the whole time."

And there was Sherlock believing the world revolved around him.

"And there in lies our problem," John teased, but Sherlock ignored him.

"Don't you see?"

"That your ego knows no bounds. Yes, I see that exactly."

Sherlock shot him a warning glare before resuming his train of thought.

"She first showed up when we were working our first case - "

"A Study In Pink."

The detective rolled his eyes.

"I was rummaging through the skip and there she was acting all innocent. As if she had no idea what I was doing there. She must've planned it."

"You think she planned running into you in a dark ally?"

The whole thing sounded absurd. Granted, John hadn't met Rose, but surely Greg would've noticed if there was something off about her.

"But it wasn't just the ally. She was there when we were working out the Graffiti and again at the train yard."

She must have planned the run ins. All of them. That was the only explanation.

"It could just be coincidence," John said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Coincidence? Their first run-in could be explained by coincidence, but there were too many.

"The universe is rarely so lazy."

"Okay, if I'm to believe she orchestrated all these chance encounters to get close to you then answer one question."

"All right," Sherlock agreed, sitting down as if he was expecting an question that would help him connect all the dots.

"Why you?"

Sherlock scoffed.

"It's obvious."

"Um...no not really."

His friend really hadn't worked it out? There was only one answer.

"She works for Mycroft."

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked that having been the furthest thing from his mind.

"I'm just not sure whether this is a test or he's trying to insert a spy into my life."

"You think Mycroft hired her to spy on you?"

"He offered to pay you for the job or did you forget that?"

It was true. When he first became flat mates with Sherlock Mycroft had offered to pay him to spy on the detective. Would Sherlock's brother really hire a woman to do the job?

"If that's true then just stop meeting her."

It seemed pretty simple to John. If Sherlock thought she was a spy then cut her loose.

"And let Mycroft know I'm on to him?"

It was John's turn to roll his eyes. Of course Sherlock wouldn't do what was simple.

"It would solve the problem."

Sherlock shook his head, disagreeing with the idea.

"He'd just find someone else."

Okay, that was true. Mycroft would likely do it again.

"What do you suggest?"

"We track her down. Find proof that she's working for Mycroft."

"Then?"

"Then I'll arrange a little meeting with my dear brother. He'll have no choice, but to admit what he did."

"You said she lived in that building."

"That's what she told me, but she's not listed with the renters."

"Then she lied."

"There's one name that I know I've heard before, but I can't place it."

"What name?"

"Jacklyn Tyler."

"Peter Tyler's wife?"

"Peter Tyler? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He's only the Vitex king," John replied, pulling out his laptop and running a search.

"Vitex? Isn't that - "

"It's a health food drink," John explained, handing over his laptop.

Sherlock read through the web page. Peter Tyler, Vitex King, inventor of the Vitex health food drink, married to Jacklyn Suzette Tyler. He ran a search on Jacklyn Tyler. Jacklyn's images resembled Rose enough that Sherlock believed the two to be related.

Jacklyn's name was on a rental agreement with a set of middle-class flats. It was below her station. She wouldn't rent one for herself. Nor would she rent one for family, at least not family the media would be aware of, or perhaps her husband. Could Rose be Jacklyn's bastard daughter? It fit. If Mycroft found out about their little secret and then threatened Rose with exposure? If Mr. Tyler found out he might end his marriage to Jacklyn leaving her penniless and there for leave Rose penniless.

Sherlock grinned.

"Got you."

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

**Thank you to all my brilliant readers!**

Reviews are always welcome. :)


	9. Interupted

Sherlock waited in the alley as the shadows grew while night descended. Number twenty-nine in the far corner near the fire exit, which would account for no one having seen a blonde woman living alone. She must come and go through the side door. Using a fire escape as a means of entry would be work, but for someone hiding a secret that could destroy three lives it made sense, at least it made sense to Sherlock.

John would of course go on about how other people kept such secrets without going to extremes, but his flatmate hadn't met the extraordinary woman. Sherlock paused. _Extraordinary? _He shook his head. _Secretive_, yes, that was the word, and sly. She was by no means _extraordinary_.

The lights in twenty-nine went on. No one had come or gone. The flat should be empty. Timers then. He grinned. She did think of everything.

He made his way to the fire escape, pulled down the ladder, and climbed up. The door was locked, but he made short work of that, opened the door and crept inside. The hall was empty and the door to twenty-nine was only a few steps inside.

Sherlock slid his lock pick into the lock on the door and -

"What do you think you're doing mate?" a strong male voice interrupted him.

If Sherlock had been practically anyone else he would've jumped at the sound that was a foot behind and to the left of him. Three scenarios played though his mind. He dismissed the idea of a burglar as there was only two means of entry, the fire exit Sherlock came though that required a key and the front door that also required a key and while the detective was skilled at picking locks the bloke would've had to get by him without noticing as he'd been hiding in the alley across the way for a good two hours and that just wasn't possible. It could be a nosy neighbor, which made more sense, but it could also be someone hired by Mycroft to keep tabs on Rose as Sherlock's brother didn't trust anyone.

All that ran through the detective's mind in milliseconds giving him ample time to settle on the last two as possibilities. He put on his most confused face, mock jumping in time to convince anyone he was startled.

"I-I, really this isn't what it looks like," he replied, turning to take in the dark skinned man dressed all in black, winter jacket over a dark shirt, cargo pants, military grade boots – definitely one of Mycroft's men. He palmed the lock pick as he continued. "I lost my key somewhere between work, the pub, and the trolley."

The man gave a half grin, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

"And you just happen to keep a set of lock picks in your coat just in case?"

"Lock picks?" Sherlock asked as if he had no idea what the man was talking about.

"Yeah," the man said, nodding to Sherlock's left hand. "The ones you palmed just a minute ago."

He was good, but the detective wasn't going to give up the ruse so easily.

"I don't like what you're insinuating," he miffed.

"Enough with the act, Sherlock," the man said, dropping the ruse himself.

"Yes," he agreed. "I'd say we've had enough games."

"I told her you'd be trouble."

The bloke pulled out a small thin device that was reminiscent of a spy camera from a 1970's film.

_Her? Rose, he must be talking about Rose, but why would he care about that if he was working for Mycroft?_ Wait. Was this bloke working for Rose? Did that make sense? How did that make sense?

"You're working for Rose," Sherlock deduced.

The bloke chuckled.

"I'm her friend. Something you wouldn't understand."

"Her friend?"

This bloke was Rose's friend. What was the man doing there? Was he spying on her? No, he was watching her flat. He was waiting. He was there for Sherlock.

"Foreign concept to you, I know. At first I thought it was good for her. Taking an interest in another bloke, but then it seemed more than an interest, which would've been good if you'd been...you know...normal." Sherlock stiffened. "After you helped her with the plans, that's when I started to get concerned. So I checked up on you. Sherlock Holmes, of course it had to be some fictional detective."

"Fictional?"

The bloke was mad. Wait. If he was mad maybe he wasn't her friend. Maybe he was stalking her. One of those lunatics that made up connections. What if this bloke was planning on kidnapping her? For reasons Sherlock could neither fathom nor control his fist suddenly grew a mind of its own and connected with the bloke's jaw, knocking him to the floor.

In the next moment both men were rolling around on the hall floor each trying to gain the upper hand.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers! :)

**Reviews are always welcome.**


	10. Fights and Flats

One more chapter to go!

* * *

The scuffle in the hallway would've lasted a lot longer had a shock of electricity not suddenly run though both Sherlock and the unknown bloke, knocking both of them away from each other. Sherlock had enough time to discern that the shock wasn't enough to harm him and observe that the bloke didn't initiate it, at least that's what the look of shock on the bloke's face said. His pocket chimed a moment later.

He kept a wary gaze on the other bloke as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He didn't recognize the number. A client? Perhaps. He didn't have time for clients at the moment.

He was distracted by the bloke's mobile ringing. Sherlock watched the man pull it out. All the while the detective's mobile rang.

"Yeah?" the man asked into the phone.

"No...I," the bloke stuttered. "But...but...okay..." The bloke eyed him. "Rose wants you to answer." He nodded toward Sherlock's mobile.

Rose?

The detective answered.

"Hello?"

"I expected more from you," Rose's voice cut through the line.

"Rose?"

"Don't be redundant, Sherlock." He paused. Did she just...? "I considered you a friend, but if you're going to go around punching my best friend - "

"Your best friend?" Sherlock asked, glancing at the other bloke.

How could this..._man_...be Rose's best friend? He looked as dimwitted as...

"Sherlock, pay attention," she ordered.

That was it. He'd had about enough of this game.

"I have been paying attention for your information, Ms. Tyler," he snapped, gaining a _are you ever in for it, _look from the bloke, but he ignored that and plowed on. "You inserted yourself into my life, treating my like a friend, something I commend you on because I almost believed it and that's something since I don't have friends, that being a sentiment I can not afford. Then you dangle a bit of mystery in front of me in the form of a drawing, something you need help with, and I, distracted by sentiment, do help with. You then lead my friends to believe that you're my girlfriend - "

"Sorry?" Rose asked and he could almost swear she was genuinely shocked.

"I know you're working for Mycroft Ms. Tyler. I don't blame you entirely. I'm sure he found out about your little secret."

"What secret?"

The wariness in her voice made him smile. He was right. She was hiding something and he knew just what that something was.

"That you're the bastard child of Jackie Tyler and some sordid affair - "

In the next moment the bloke slapped him. Sherlock righted himself and was about to land his own punch when Rose stopped him.

"You deserve that you idiot!"

Wait. Idiot? No one called him an...he opened his mouth to shoot off his own reply.

"My mother would NEVER run around on my dad! Do you understand me?" Rose yelled. "Peter Tyler is and always has been my dad and you can take that to the bank! As for your brother...Mycroft Holmes couldn't see a secret if he was standing on top of it, which he is occasionally. I never lied to you, not about who I am or what I'm up to. I understand it's your job to not trust people so if going through my things will make you feel better then I'll have Mickey let you in. Next time I see you, if I see you again, you best have all this behind you."

With that she abruptly hung up. Sherlock stared at his phone not entirely sure what to believe. She was giving him free reign of her flat, knowing he was going to go through it. Why would she do that? And what was that bit about Mycroft standing on top of a secret?

"I wasn't going to wipe all of his memory, just the bit with you in it," Mickey was saying. Sherlock glanced at him. Wait. Wipe his memory? "No...but...Rose...I'm your friend and I think...no, but...but...yeah, okay. I won't. Fine," he ended the call.

"Wipe my memory?" Sherlock asked.

"I might have to let you in," Micky said, ignoring Sherlock's question. "but I'm keeping my eye on you and stay clear of her panties."

"Her what?" Sherlock stammered as Mickey opened the door and shoved him inside.

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Standard Disclaimer.

**Thank you to all my brilliant readers!**

Reviews are always welcome. :)


	11. Stars

This is it! Last chapter! Not sure if that's good or bad, but there will be tons more Roselocks fics so there's that. :)

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Sherlock was at it again. Standing at the window, but not staring at the city. His head was turned up, slightly and John knew his friend was staring at the night sky. At the stars. It was strange to see this side of his flat mate. This human side of him. At another time John would've smiled. He would've taken this as evidence that Sherlock wasn't the machine he claimed to be, but that was before Rose. Before the stars.

In the months before Sherlock became obsessed with her. Rose Tyler. A woman John never met, but somehow managed to become important to the detective. At first she was background. Showing up after cases. Presenting a mystery.

Greg thought she was Sherlock's girlfriend. Something the detective adamantly denied. Then he went to her flat and soon after everything changed.

Sherlock stopped talking about her and whenever John mentioned her or asked about her his friend would abruptly change the subject. Then came the nonsense about the stars and John started to think Sherlock finally snapped.

Stars going out.

That just wasn't possible. Stars didn't disappear. Sherlock claimed that was the case. That the stars, that entire universes vanished and somehow the detective was the only person on earth who remembered. Sherlock, the Sherlock John knew, didn't believe in such nonsense.

He knew what it was. Moriarty. Getting inside Sherlock's head. His friend claimed to be above human emotion, but even Superman could fall.

"All right there?" John asked.

Instead of answering Sherlock picked up his violin and bow. The melody that filled the room was a haunted tale of loss, of loneliness, that seemed to speak of other worlds. John sighed, deciding to turn in. Moriarty would stand trial tomorrow and at least one of them needed some sleep.

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Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


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